


actively spying

by lady_mab



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Meet-Cute, Other, nbslash exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 12:57:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15886521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_mab/pseuds/lady_mab
Summary: "You weren't the target of my investigations tonight.""And just who are you?" Sokrates returned, eyebrow arched.He dropped the board at his feet and stepped up onto it with ease. With a slight lean, the board lifted so he hovered over the railing of the balcony. "The original Mako Trig. If anyone else says they're me, they're probably just one of my clones."With that, he winked, saluted, and dropped out of sight





	actively spying

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaynara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaynara/gifts).



> FATT NB Slash exchange gift for Kay! Our new life motto and presidential campaign slogan? SMILES FOR SOKRATES.

The large, ornate double doors closed at Sokrates' back and the clamoring of the petitioners finally died away. They allowed themself the moment to lean against the carved wood, feeling the patterns press into their back, to tell wordless stories to their palms. One breath, then two, then they straightened their posture and stepped away.

This might be their private quarters, but someone was always watching.

They crossed the floor to their vanity, discarding layers as they went. A shawl, a glove, their shoes kicked aside. Pins pulled from their hair and necklaces untangled from the dark strands. A trail of opulence marked the path they took. Sokrates only stopped by the vanity long enough to gently set down the bracelets they received from their siblings as a birthday gift years ago before making their way to the bay windows.

Sokrates pushed them open with a sigh and enjoyed the stillness of the night air—for all of the two seconds it lasted before a brightly colored figure crashed into the potted plant on their balcony.

The knife was in their hand in an instant, and years of self-defense lessons kicked in.

A groan sounded from the foliage, though they couldn't make out what exactly had fallen, or where it had fallen from.

They approached with caution, annoyed more than afraid that this interference decided to interrupt their already irritable evening. One pale, possibly blue, leg extended up at an uncomfortable angle, shoe missing. From their position on the balcony, they could see what appeared to be a holographic sneaker caught in the leaves a bit to the left, and upon closer inspection, a hoverboard hummed in the shrubbery further away.

"You're under arrest," Sokrates finally said with a sigh, "for trespassing on the Apostolosian estate. And who knows whatever other kind of shit you were planning on getting into."

There was no reaction, so they waited a beat before poking the bottom of the socked foot with their knife.

The figure yelped and thrashed about in the bushes, which only served to dislodge him from the fragile branches that kept him vaguely upright. A short fall later, a long, pained sound came from the tangle of limbs on the marble floor.

"Did you hear me the first time or do you need me to repeat what you're being charged with?" Sokrates asked.

"Sorry, I got distracted when you  _ stabbed me _ with a sword!"

They clicked their tongue disapprovingly before realizing that would be something that Euanthe or Cassander would do. So, instead, they returned the knife to the hidden sheath at their side and set to the task of moving the potted plant out of the way. "I didn't stab you, and it wasn't a sword."

"Are you sure? I can't feel that leg anymore. Did you cut it off?"

"I don't want to panic you, but that could mean you got a spinal injury." They grunted as they moved a second pot out of the way.

The young man sat bolt upright, eyes wide. "What was that about my spine?"

Sokrates disguised a snort of amusement against their shoulder. "Or not... Where did you fall from?"

He looked around, and spotted the hoverboard. "I promise I wasn't spying on you."

"Oh?"

"Nope. I was hiding. And then you ruined my hiding spot by opening the door." He clambered to his feet, not seeming to notice that one shoe was missing, and sprawled out over the bushes in an attempt to grab the edge to his board. "You weren't supposed to be back for another twenty-seven minutes. I was doing  _ so well _ on my time, too."

Sokrates stopped and straightened their posture. They crossed their arms over their chest, the tip of their finger tapping against the pommel of their knife. "What was that about  _not spying on me_?" 

"There's a difference between actively spying and already having the information, Demarch." And, to Sokrates' amusement, he sketched out a bow—one holographic shoe missing, pale blonde hair disheveled, and pink flannel shirt torn on his right elbow. "You weren't the target of my investigations tonight."

"And just who are you?" Sokrates returned, eyebrow arched.

He dropped the board at his feet and stepped up onto it with ease. With a slight lean, the board lifted so he hovered over the railing of the balcony. "The  _ original _ Mako Trig. If anyone else says they're me, they're probably just one of my clones."

With that, he winked, saluted, and dropped out of sight. 

With a startled shout, Sokrates scrambled to the edge of the balcony and leaned over. Yet despite Mako's garish color pallet (and accent), he was nowhere to be seen. The only trace that he had even been there was a few broken branches and one shoe. 

Sokrates burst into laughter and reached out for the sneaker. They tested the weight of it in their hand, turning it about as if it would reveal any information to them. "Alright, fine, but I'm going to hold this hostage until you come back for it," they called into the night.

There was no answer, but for some reason, they felt like the night laughed with them.

* * *

Sokrates could not stop thinking about the strange man on their balcony. The cocksure attitude and confidence reminded them a lot of themself when they were younger—unburdened by the weight of the Demarchy on their shoulders.

And while they never explicitly expected to see him again, they always did give their balcony a once-over whenever they returned to their room. 

The holographic shoe remained where they left it: on the balcony, in clear enough sight that Mako could grab it without being seen, but Sokrates would easily notice its absence.

Or, in this case, notice its continual presence. 

They had no time to be disappointed, but it still felt terribly upsetting that he would know so much about them and then not return. 

Of course, they considered setting more guards around the estate. He had sneaked in once and was clearly and actively spying on someone. 

But with both siblings occupied elsewhere, Sokrates was the highest ranking individual on the premises. And despite Mako completely admitting to being a spy, they believed him when he said that he wasn't spying on  _them_. 

Maybe Mako stayed away because he got everything he needed. Maybe he expected Sokrates to act like a rational political figure and increase the guard presence. 

Whatever the reason, it was three weeks before there was finally a change in the shoe's location. 

That is what Sokrates noticed first: It was no longer on the marble floor of the balcony. In fact, it hovered a few inches off of it, once again in place on Mako's foot as he perched on the railing with a thoughtful expression. 

Sokrates locked the door behind him. Unlike their first meeting, this time there were no officials trailing at their heels, chasing them into their room. So Sokrates took their time crossing the expanse of their room—as if any sudden movement would send Mako scattering into a million brightly colored pieces. 

"You kept my shoe," Mako finally said when Sokrates stood on the threshold. "I had written it off as a lost cause." He kicked out his legs and viewed his mismatched sneakers, one holographic, the other black with brightly colored laces and a row of lights across the rubber sole. 

"Honestly, I just didn't know what to do with it after a week. It would cause fewer questions to just leave it on the balcony than it would be to try and toss it." 

Mako arched an eyebrow and his sharp grin quickly followed. "Hoping I'd come back to fetch it?" 

Sokrates shrugged, not seeing any reason to lie. "That was my intention, yes." 

Mako hummed and kicked his legs back against the balcony, causing the lights on the black shoe to illuminate in rapid and dizzying succession. "Well, you got your wish!" 

They tried to hide their smirk behind their hand, but they weren't fast enough and Mako's grin only widened. "I wouldn't say I wished for it." 

"I'm here anyway." 

"Where have you been?" 

He didn't respond right away. Instead, he hopped down and hefted the second black sneaker in the palm of his hand. "Work. Sneaking around. You know, spy things. Had to leave planet for awhile." 

Sokrates pretended not to watch his approach from the corner of their eye. Instead, the leaned against the balcony railing. "I'm surprised you came back." 

"Eh. I was curious." Mako dropped the shoe onto the balcony at Sokrates' elbow and the mimicked their posture—arms crossed over the balustrade and weight shifted casually on one hip. "So I figured, why not drop in on the Demarch again! How are we today, voice of the people?" 

They let out a long breath of air between their puckered lips, ending it with their tongue sticking out and a rather ungraceful sound. 

"Been better?" 

"Loads." 

"You're not as stiff as you seem on the 'net." 

"The version of me you see on your news feeds has been on their feet for ten hours listening to people argue with each other. This version of me is glad that the work day is over." 

Mako laughed, which isn't exactly what Sokrates expected. 

"What?" 

"I didn't think Demarchs could clock out." 

Sokrates hesitated, then snorted out a laugh of their own. "I guess not. But it is the point in time where I'm allowed to shut the door on everyone else because  _ they _ hold business hours." 

Mako made a sound and shook his head. "Blegh. Business hours. And miss out on all the fun behind the scenes activity that takes place when no one else thinks anyone is awake? Not on your life!" He threw his arms open wide, and in the process, knocked the shoe off the balcony. "Ah." 

They watched it fall down the short incline, quickly losing sight of it in the tangle of branches and leaves. The only evidence of its passing were the lights going off as soon as it hit a solid enough surface. 

"Hey," Mako started, not looking up. 

"Yeah?" Sokrates replied, not looking up either. 

"Hold onto my shoe for me, will you? I promise it won't take me as long next time to come get it."

Sokrates started to reply, but by the time they straightened their posture and turned to look, Mako was already gone. The sound died in their throat, and they tried not to feel disappointed. 

Instead, an amused smile lighted on their lips and they let out a sigh. "Guess I'll have to get this shoe now, huh?" they asked the night sky, and imagined the double thumbs up Mako could have given them in response.


End file.
